You, O Lord, are every place–over all, through all, and in all.

But there was a time when you favored one place–the City of God.

How your Self saturated that City!

I’ve lingered in similar locations.

Places where your presence was pronounced.

A stirring worship service in a Nashville sanctuary.

A quiet moment on the Malibu shore.

A brilliant sunrise on a Las Cruces mesa.

Those glimpses of your glory make me hunger for a new day and a new city where we’ll finally meet face to face.

[image]

All are penniless in death.

The CEO cannot take her golden parachute to the grave.

The dictator cannot take his blood-money to the casket.

The celebrity cannot bring her fame to the cemetery.

All people are penniless in death.

Therefore, God, I will not envy my co-worker’s estate. 

I will not covet my neighbor’s career. 

I will not long for my boss’ lake-house.

I will instead satisfy myself with you. 

You will be my wealth.

You will be my income.

You are all I need to be truly rich in this life and the next.

[image]

Over the past few days I’ve practiced what I call the “ministry of presence” among the LaVelle family.  When a young person like Liz dies, there few words worth speaking.  The very best we can do is just be present with each other.  And as I’ve tried to be present I’ve overheard numerous people saying the same thing over and over.  As they’ve thought of the hurt and pain that comes in the midst of the death of a young person like Liz, they’ve said, “I just don’t know how people make it through times like these without God and without the church.”  They’ve been testifying that times of tragedy reveal that there is nothing comparable to following Jesus, there is something indispensible about following Jesus.  You can’t make it through those times without that “thing” that only comes through following Jesus.

This Sunday morning series has allowed us to do some deeper thinking about that truth.  As we’ve listened to Jesus debate religious leaders, we’ve learned that there is a big difference between religion and following Jesus.  We’ve learned that there’s something that only comes by following Jesus, something that religion can never offer.  This morning’s text punctuates that truth in a very timely way.

18And Sadducees came to him, who say that there is no resurrection. And they asked him a question, saying, 19″Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies and leaves a wife, but leaves no child, the man must take the widow and raise up offspring for his brother. 20There were seven brothers; the first took a wife, and when he died left no offspring. 21And the second took her, and died, leaving no offspring. And the third likewise. 22And the seven left no offspring. Last of all the woman also died. 23In the resurrection, when they rise again, whose wife will she be? For the seven had her as wife.”  24Jesus said to them, “Is this not the reason you are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God? 25For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. 26And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God spoke to him, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? 27He is not God of the dead, but of the living. You are quite wrong.” (Mk. 12:18-27 ESV)

We’ve watched three members of the Sandhedrin attack Jesus at the temple.  We’ve watched the unlikely duo of the Pharisees and Herodians attack Jesus at the temple.  Today, the Sadducees attack Jesus at the temple.  We’ve learned who the Sanhedrin is and who the Pharisees and Herodians are.  But who are these Sadducees attacking Jesus today?   

• The name “Sadducee” probably came from the name “Zadok,” the high priest who served in the time of King David.  The high priests after Zadok descended from Zadock’s family. ^[i]  The “Zadokees” or Sadducees were the influential families from whom the high priests were selected. 
• This made the Sadducees spiritually prominent.  It was hard to get much higher on the spiritual ladder than the high priest, and the Sadducees were comprised of the high priests.
• Not only were they spiritually prominent.  They were politically powerful.  The Sadducees allied themselves with the Herodians and Romans.  This meant that they had influence not only in the sacred world but also in the secular world.
• Finally, the Sadducees were theologically conservative.  You might remember that the Pharisees had manufactured all kinds of extra laws in order to keep people from breaking the actual laws of the Bible.  The Sadducees rejected these extra laws.  They accepted only what was written on the pages of Scripture.  More specifically, they gave greatest weight to the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testament, the books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. 

But this theological conservatism morphed into a kind of blind fundamentalism.  They became one of the few religious groups in Judaism who did not believe in a resurrection from the dead.  There are numerous Old Testament texts which affirm that God will raise the dead (e.g., Dan. 12:1-2; Is. 26:19; Ez. 37:1-14).  But these texts all appear outside of the Pentateuch, those five books which the Sadducees valued above all others.[ii]  And since they could find no text in the Pentateuch which taught a resurrection from the dead, the Sadducees did not believe in resurrection.  Thus they come today in the temple with a contrived story designed to show just how ridiculous resurrection belief is.

The Sadducees point Jesus to a text in the Pentateuch—Deut. 25:5—which taught that if a woman’s husband died before the couple had children, the brother of the husband was to marry her and have children with her.  Then the Sadducees concoct a “what-if” story about a wife whose husband dies and leaves no children, so the brother marries her, but he dies without fathering children, so the next brother marries her, and so on.  All seven brothers marry her but die without leaving children.  The Sadducees believe this law in the Pentateuch requiring brothers to marry a deceased brother’s wife makes belief in the resurrection impossible.  Because if there is a resurrection, then whose wife will this woman be in the resurrection?

But there is more at stake here than a doctrinal dispute about resurrection.  What is ultimately at stake is a world view, a way of making sense of life.  One line from two biblical scholars helps us see this larger picture: “In their view the present world is the place of the one encounter with God and the related reward and punishment.”^[iii]   The Sadducee’s disbelief in the resurrection led to ultimately to a distorted belief about life.  They appeared to believe that the present world is the place of the one encounter with God.  In other words, everything important that’s going to happen between you and God is going to happen in this world and in this life.  Everything critical that God’s going to do with us, through us, and to us is going to happen in this world and in this life.  Now, they did believe in the idea of heaven and of an afterlife.  But in their mind there would never be a physical resurrection of the dead.  There would be no new heaven and new earth.  There would be no recreation of humanity and of the cosmos.  The only real physical life is the life we are now living. 

I think it’s permissible to put it way: The Sadducees seemed to believe that the only physical reality is the world as it now exists.  There is a non-physical reality called heaven.  But the only physical reality is the world as it now exists.  There is no hope of a physical world different than the world we have right now.  In terms of the physical world and our physical lives, things will never be fundamentally different than they are right now.

It is little wonder that the Sadducees were not popular among the common people.  What kind of religion do you have when it says the only physical reality is the world as it now exists?  What kind of hope do you have to offer the farmers suffering in the midst of a drought or the sick, lame, and blind whose infirmities rob them of a normal life, or the entire population of Israel subjugated to the pagan powers of Rome when your religion says that there is no hope of a physical world different than the world we have right now?

It’s little wonder that the Sadducees allied themselves with the political powers of the day: the Herodians and the Romans.  If the only physical world is the world we have right now, you’d better become intimate with the most powerful political parties and preeminent people in the world—because they are the only ones who can offer any real hope of improving our physical lives and our physical world.

Seen through this lens, the Sadducees offered a religion which could only help with the world that is.  The worst religion can only offer help surviving life in the world as it currently exists.  The worst religion asks us to meekly accept the hard reality around us and then shows us how to survive in the midst of that reality.  It asks us to believe there is nothing that can be done about that reality.  Then it holds our hand and tries to relieve some of the pain from that reality.

Religion can offer help.  But it can never provide hope.  It’s no better than the aspirin or the drink or the TV or the novel at the end of a very hard day.  Religion can mask some of the pain.  It can dull some of the despair.  But it cannot fundamentally change anything about the world as it currently exists.

Rarely has that been more significant in the Highland family than right now. 

• Kate Garner, daughter of long-time Highland members Ken and Brenda, was in a serious car accident a couple of weeks ago.  She’s alive but in a lot of pain and dealing with a very serious injury.  When I visited her in the hospital she wept and wondered aloud if she’d ever get back to the life she was living before.  Would she ever walk again?  Or would she just have to accept the world as it is?
• The Sayers, long-time Highland members, lost Sharon’s mother two days ago.  The Prines, long-time Highland members, lost Sean’s father to cancer last week.  The Hanisco’s, long-time Highland members, lost Mindy’s mother and then her grandmother within the span of several days. 
• The LaVelle’s, long-time Highland members, lost their daughter Liz in a car accident four days ago as she travelled to Nashville for college.  On the eve of Liz’s death, as many of us packed into their crowded house on Mallard Lane, one woman screamed out “Can I just say that I hate this!”  She, and none us, could stand the reality of the world as it currently exists.

And what these families need, and what we all need, is so much more than just religion.  We need more than just help as we cope with what is.  We need hope that there’s more than this.  We need hope that what is can be changed into what isn’t.  We need hope that the way things are today are not the way things are going to stay.

That’s exactly what Jesus offers: 24Jesus said to them, “Is this not the reason you are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God? 25For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. 26And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God spoke to him, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? 27He is not God of the dead, but of the living. You are quite wrong.” (Mk. 12:24-27 ESV)

The Sadducees quoted from the Pentateuch because they believed it to be the most important part of the Bible.  So, Jesus quotes from the Pentateuch.  Jesus quotes from the Ex. 3 story of God appearing to Moses in the bush.  That story is particularly significant given the implications I’ve spelled out regarding the Sadducees. 

The story Jesus quotes from begins with the fact that, for hundreds of years, the Israelites have been enslaved by the Egyptians.  This enslavement has become their reality.  This is all they know.  There is no one left alive who remembers what life was like before this life.  There is no one with memories of a life before Egypt.  From child to parent to grandparent to great grand parent, the only stories anyone can share are stories of life as a slave.  Poverty.  Injustice.  Hopelessness.  That is the only physical world they know.  And as far as they know, nothing can change that reality.

Then one day God speaks to a man named Moses at a bush that appears to be burning:  7Then the LORD said, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters. I know their sufferings, 8and I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the place of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. 9And now, behold, the cry of the people of Israel has come to me, and I have also seen the oppression with which the Egyptians oppress them. 10 Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.” 11But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” 12He said, “But I will be with you, and this shall be the sign for you, that I have sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.”  13Then Moses said to God, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” 14God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” 15God also said to Moses, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you.’ This is my name forever, and thus I am to be remembered throughout all generations. 16Go and gather the elders of Israel together and say to them, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, has appeared to me, saying, “I have observed you and what has been done to you in Egypt, 17and I promise that I will bring you up out of the affliction of Egypt to the land of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, a land flowing with milk and honey.”‘ (Ex. 3:7-16 ESV).  This is the story Jesus paraphrases in his response to the Sadducees.

And it is a resurrection story.  The Israelites are as good as dead.  The only reality they know is suffering and despair.  But God has come not simply to help them cope with the world as it is.  God has come to change what is.  He’s come to recreate reality.  He’s going to turn their world on its head.  They’ll go from poverty to wealth.  They’ll go from death to life.  They’ll go from injustice to justice.  They’ll go from oppressed to free.  They’ll go from hurting to hallelujah!  With power beyond imagination, God sends plagues, parts a sea and passes the Israelites over into a new reality.

I think all of that is in Jesus’ mind when he mentions this story, when he scolds the Sadducees for not understanding the power of God, and when he says that God is not a God of the dead but of the living.  The dead is the way the world is right now.  The dead is the hard reality we are now facing.  But the living is the way the world should be.  The living is the reality that can be.  And God is not a God of the dead, but of the living.  Because following Jesus is about following a God who is not merely powerful enough to help us cope with life as it is.  It is about following a God powerful enough to change what is.  Following Jesus is not just about help for the world that is.  It’s about hope for the world that will be.  Following Jesus is following a God who resurrects, who changes death into life, who transforms ends into new beginnings, who turns hurting to hallelujah.  And the Israelites’ exodus out of Egypt was just one small example of that enormous power.  God is capable of not only helping you cope with the world as it now exists.  He is capable of changing that world.  He is capable of remaking your reality.  He is not the God of the dead.  He is the God of the living.  He is the resurrection God.

As Kate Garner lay in her hospital bed a few days ago recovering from her car accident, and as she wrestled with that accident and its implications, I told her “This is Friday.  But Sunday’s coming.  Things are not always going to be this way.  This is not forever.  This is Friday.  But Sunday’s coming.  This reality is not the only reality.”  Our God is not a God of the dead.  He is not a God who merely gets us by in the world that is.  Ours is a God of the living.  He is a God who ultimately changes all that is.

And what a powerful message that is to our Highland family.  As the Sayers grieve from the loss of Sharon’s mother, as the Prines grieve from the death of Sean’s father, as the Haniscos grieve from the death of Mindy’s mother and grandmother, and as the LaVelles and hundreds of others grieve from the death of Liz, what Jesus offers is not religion.  What Jesus offers is the living God.  What Jesus offers is a God who in the resurrection of Jesus has already started changing the world that is; who one day will resurrect and recreate all that is, including those in Christ whom we so dearly love.  The LaVelles will not be without Liz forever.  That’s not how things are going to remain. There’s a resurrection coming.   And one day they will be reunited.  The Sayers and the Prines and the Haniscos will not be without Sharon’s mother or Sean’s father or Mindy’s mother or grandmother forever.  That’s not how things are going to remain.  There’s a resurrection coming.  And one day they will be reunited.  He’s going to turn the world on its head.  We’ll go from poverty to wealth.  We’ll go from death to life.  We’ll go from injustice to justice.  We’ll go from oppressed to free.  We’ll go from hurting to hallelujah!  We do not have to accept things as they are today.  We believe in the God of the things that will be.  We believe that God is not the God of the dead.  He is the God of the living. 

[ii] Gundry, 705.

^[iii] Kittel, G., Friedrich, G., & Bromiley, G. W. (1995). Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (993–994). Grand Rapids, MI: W.B. Eerdmans.

In his book Surprised by Hope N. T. Wright warns that some of the classic Christian hymns about heaven may be misleading.[1]  He cautions that some hymns can be misunderstood to teach a kind of escapism.  They can be misconstrued and make us so heavenly minded that we are of no earthly good.  For example, the 1920 hymn “Where the Gates Swing Outward Never,” states: “Just a few more years with their toil and tears, And the journey will be ended.”  The hymn states that life is filled with toil and tears.  And thus it might lead someone to think that we’ve got to escape this toil-filled and tear-filled life as quickly as possible and get to heaven.  The 1876 hymn “Beyond This Land of Parting” sings: “Beyond this land of parting, losing and leaving, Far beyond the losses darkening this, And far beyond the taking and the bereaving, Lies the summer land of bliss.”  The hymn states that all this life offers is parting, losing, leaving, taking, and bereaving.  And thus it might lead someone to conclude that the only thing to do is escape this life and get to that heavenly summer land of bliss.

There is, of course, truth in these Christian hymns.  The comfort of heavenly life does give us hope during the discomfort of earthly life.  We do look forward to a better life, one free from pain and tears.  But N. T. Wright is correct.  It is possible to become so heavenly minded that we begin to neglect this earthly life and only think of escaping this life.  We just want to get to heaven as fast as we can.

But in the text we’ve been exploring—2 Cor. 4-5—Paul writes that just the opposite can happen.  The more we have the right perspective on heaven, and on the resurrection life which makes heaven possible, the more it leads to an energetic and enthusiastic engaging in life on the earth.  That is, heaven and resurrection life don’t lead to escaping life on earth.  They lead to engaging life on earth.  Here’s how Paul puts it: 8We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. 12So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Cor. 4:8-12 ESV).

It is important to note that Paul is writing here about life before death.  He is not describing anything here about life after death.  He is writing instead about what impact heaven and the resurrection should have on life before death.  This is clear by his emphasis on our bodies: 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.  Paul is writing about the way that heaven and the resurrection affect the way we live on earth in our bodies.

The first thing Paul does is highlight the “death” or “dying” that takes place in our bodies on this earth: 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus…11For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake… (2 Cor. 4:10-11 ESV).  The word “death” here doesn’t simply refer to dying.  Paul is not saying that the only thing that life in this body leads to is death.  He’s writing about something that is unique to those who follow Jesus.  We Christians undergo some kind of unique death, a death which Jesus underwent.  The phrase “the death of Jesus,” refers not only to the “big” death of Jesus on the cross.  It also refers to the “little” deaths Jesus died on the way to the cross as he served people.  Paul’s phrase, “the death of Jesus,” refers to the physical and emotional pain that came from Jesus’ life of service.[2]  Jesus served people to death. 

We know that Paul’s focus here is on the death that comes through ministry and service because Paul begins this chapter by writing about his own ministry and service.  In fact most of 2 Cor. 3-5 is about the difficulty of Paul’s ministry and service.  Paul uses the word “ministry” or “minister” seven times in these chapters.  And Paul is saying here that those who follow Jesus will experience death through service.  Just as it was costly and painful for Jesus to serve and minister to others, so it will be costly and painful for those who follow Jesus to serve and minister to others.  Jesus died literally and figuratively as he served.  And those who follow Jesus will die, at least figuratively, as we serve. 

Paul illustrates the figurative death of serving.  Writing about the service and ministry rendered by himself and his fellow servants, Paul remarks: 8We are afflicted in every way… perplexed… 9persecuted… struck down (2 Cor. 4:8-9 ESV).  Paul is saying that this is what has happened to him and his fellow servants as they have ministered to others.  They’ve been afflicted, perplexed, persecuted, and struck down.  Paul knows first-hand the cost of serving others while in this body.  He knows the grinding fatigue and the constant criticism and the persistent disappointments.  That’s what Paul means when he says that people like him are carrying in their bodies the death of Jesus. 

And, as an aside, I’d like to point out how true this is for those elders, staff members, deacons, and ministry leaders at Highland who have served during the nine years it’s taken for Highland to relocate.  It was nine years ago this year when we made our first attempt at purchasing a property for the purpose of relocating.  And for Highland’s staff, elders, deacons, and ministry leaders, these nine years have been an especially pointed time of dying.  More than at most times in our lives, we have experienced the pain and the cost of service and ministry.  These nine years have fatigued us and wounded us.  We’ve lost sleep, experienced health problems, endured spiritual crises, hurt our families, and been burnt out.  We know what it’s like to carry in our bodies the death of Jesus.  And I’d just like urge you to take some time in the next few weeks to encourage and bless those at Highland who have ministered in this time of transition.

But this is true not only for “professionals” like Paul.  It’s true for any Christian striving to follow Jesus and serve others.  Paul Barnett writes, “A Christian employee is passed over for promotion or is dismissed because he or she is a godly person who will not bend the rules.  A missionary doctor loses her place in the structures of the profession because she has spent ten years in an out-of-the-way hospital…While there are great compensations, all ministry is costly not only in terms of what one relinquishes to pursue it but also in the accompanying misunderstanding or abuse, perhaps from friends and family.”[3]  Every Christian who strives to serve as Jesus served will experience something of the death and dying of Jesus.

But listen to the good news: 8We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. 12So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Cor. 4:8-12 ESV).  Paul uses Jesus’ death and resurrection as a paradigm for service.  Jesus’ death and suffering were not the end.  Rather, they led to the resurrection and the new life.  In the same way, the trials and troubles which come with Christian service are not the end.  Rather, they lead to something else.  They lead to life. 

As we go around in our bodies serving, the death and dying of Jesus manifests itself in us.  But, something else also manifests itself: the resurrection life of Jesus.  Somehow, as we serve and minister, what began in the resurrection of Jesus continues through us.  What started as one new life which transformed death and evil spreads through us as we serve others.  That resurrection life makes itself known, it reveals itself, it manifests itself, through us as we serve in the here and now.  That is, every time we serve, it’s like another little death of Jesus taking place.  Every time we serve, there’s pain and suffering that springs forth.  But, every time we serve, it’s also like another little resurrection of Jesus taking place.  Every time we serve, there’s new life and transformation that springs forth.

And here’s the most exciting point: 12So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Cor. 4:8-12 ESV).  Paul says that as we serve and minister, we will experience pain and suffering and a kind of dying, just like Jesus.  But those we serve and minister to will experience just the opposite.  They will experience the resurrection life of Jesus.  When Paul says “death is at work in us, but life in you,” he’s saying, “Even though serving is killing me, it’s transforming you.”  Through our ministry and service to others, that death-stopping and evil-crushing life which appeared at Jesus’ resurrection is unleashed into the lives of those whom we serve.  Paul is not only saying that those who follow Jesus experience death through service.  Paul is also saying that those who follow Jesus release life through service—resurrection life. 

And just what is that resurrection life?  It is essentially, heaven coming to earth.  It is God moving toward the glory of our new bodies and the glory of our new heaven and earth.  The resurrection of Jesus is really the beginning of heaven.  It’s our first step into that new country.  Author N. T. Wright states that early Christians believed, “that God was going to do for the whole cosmos was he had done for Jesus at Easter.” [4]  The Easter resurrection was the beginning of God’s wholesale renewal project—a project that would ultimately result in what we call “heaven”—renewed bodies and a renewed heaven and earth. 

And Paul is saying that when Christians serve, that renewal takes another step forward.  Heaven becomes that much closer.  Each time we love and give and sacrifice on earth, the resurrection life spreads that much more.  Where there was decay, death, or despair, there is now life, love, and joy.  Heaven doesn’t cause Christians to want to escape the earth.  Rather heaven, and it’s beginning in the resurrection, causes us to want to join God in the renewal and recreation of earth.  And every time we serve, that renewal takes another step forward.   

C. S. Lewis writes, “If you read history, you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next.  The apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English evangelicals who abolished the slave trade, all left their mark on earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with heaven.  It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have been so ineffective in this.”[5]  The resurrection and heaven reveal what life was intended by God to be.  And that image compels us to begin working with God toward that life.  Through our life of service, the heavenly resurrection life continues to renew and recreate.    

Author and professor Lewis Smedes used to ask his students if they wanted to go to heaven when they died.[6] “Who would like to go to heaven?” he would ask.  Everyone would raise their hand.  “Who would like to go to heaven today?” he would ask.  Only a few hands would go up.  Then he would change the question: “Who would like to see the whole world made right today? No more common colds, no more uncommon cancers. Hungry people would have plenty; no one would lift a finger to harm another; we would be at peace with everyone, even with ourselves. Anybody interested in that?”  There would be a frenzy of hand-lifting. Then Smedes would point out that if that new world made right is what you really want, then heaven’s really where you’d like to be.  Because heaven is the world made right—made right by the resurrection power of God.  And every time we engage life on this earth through ministry and service, that resurrection life spreads and heaven comes closer.

Jim McGuiggan tells a Jewish fable.[7]  In a small Jewish town in Russia, there is a rabbi who disappears each Friday morning for several hours. His disciples boast that during those hours their rabbi goes up to heaven and talks to God.  They believe that during that time, he ascends to heaven.  A stranger moves into town.  He hears this story about a rabbi who ascends to heaven each Friday.  He’s very skeptical about the story.  He doesn’t believe it.  So he decides to check things out for himself.  One Friday, he hides and watches for the rabbi. The rabbi gets up in the morning, says his prayers, and then dresses in peasant clothes. The rabbi grabs an axe, goes off into the woods, and cuts some firewood.  Then he then hauls the firewood to a shack on the outskirts of the village. There an old woman and her sick son live. The rabbi leaves them the wood, enough for a week, and then sneaks back home.  The rabbi hasn’t been ascending to heaven.  Each Friday he’s been anonymously serving a widow and her sick son by cutting firewood for them.  But having observed the rabbi’s actions, this skeptical stranger decides to become a follower of the rabbi.  And whenever he hears one of the villagers say, “On Friday morning our rabbi ascends all the way to heaven,” the stranger quietly adds, “If not higher.”  He understood that there’s nothing more heavenly than service.  Through service, heaven and earth meet.  And as we serve and love and minister, heaven comes to earth.  The resurrection life of Jesus manifests itself.  The world becomes more right.  And heaven becomes more real.  May we leave this place and this week, through simple acts of service, join God in working for heaven. 

[2] Inspired by Paul Barnett, The Message of 2 Corinthians (IVP, 1988), 89.

[3] Barnett, 89.

[4] Wright, Surprised.

[5] Mark Buchanan, Things Unseen (Multnomah, 2002), 24.

[6] John Ortberg, “Our Secret Fears about Heaven,” Today’s Christian Woman (July/Aug, 2003), 39-40.

[7] Jim McGuiggan, Jesus, Hero of Thy Soul (Howard Publishing, 1998), 15.

During the recent Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia the Russian athletes struggled.  In the days leading up to the games, Russian leaders boasted that their athletes would bring home 30 medals.  By the time Vancouver was complete, however, they only brought home 15 medals, and only 3 of those were gold.  It was the Russian’s worst performance since 1912.  Russian President Dmitry Medvedev called for the resignation of Russia’s top Olympic officials.  Russia groaned, because they envisioned that the games could have been so much more.  They were afflicted with this sense that Russia hadn’t fulfilled its potential.

That’s where Paul begins this Easter Sunday morning: “17For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…”  (2Cor. 4:17 ESV).  Paul writes about affliction.  He writes something similar in Romans: 18For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. (Rom. 8:18 ESV).  Paul writes about suffering.  He writes about affliction.

But that suffering, that affliction, is of a particular kind.  Here’s how Paul puts it in 2 Cor 5.: 2For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling… For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Cor. 5:2,4 ESV).  Paul writes that this suffering, this affliction, leads to a groaning.  But it’s not just a groaning that happens because of something bad we have in life.  It’s a groaning for something good we don’t have but want to have in life.  Paul looks at his life right now, and he groans because he can envision a much better life.  He can see the potential for a fuller life.  He says it’s like living in a tent but groaning for a house.  You can see how better life could be lived in the house.  Paul says that we groan because we know deep down that there’s so much more that’s possible.  We can sense that life hasn’t reached its full potential.

Paul writes about this similarly in Romans 8: 22For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Rom. 8:22-23 ESV)  Paul writes again about groaning.  Paul looks at his life right now, and he groans because he looks into the future and he envisions a better life.  He says it’s like the pains of childbirth.  A woman becomes pregnant and groans for the day when she’ll hold that baby in her arms.  She envisions that day when her life will be so much more.  Paul says that we groan because we know deep down that there’s something missing.  We can sense that life hasn’t reached its full potential.

In the 1954 movie “On the Waterfront,” Marlon Brando plays an up-and-coming fighter with big dreams and a bright future.  But his close friend forces him to take a dive in an important fight.  And suddenly Brando’s bright future grows dark.  And as time passes, he fails to achieve his full potential.  In the movie’s most famous scene, as Brando and his friend Charley sit in the back of a car, Brando groans: Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, “Kid, this ain’t your night. We’re going for the price on Wilson.” You remember that? “This ain’t your night”! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn’t have to take them dives for the short-end money…You don’t understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am…”  It’s that groan of knowing life could be so much more. 

But Paul says that we humans aren’t the only ones groaning.  Creation is also groaning: 22For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. (Rom. 8:22 ESV)  Even creation knows that it’s not living up to its potential.  Even creation knows it’s capable of so much more.  Paul describes creation as enduring birth pains.  Creation is in a state in which it longs to be reborn, it gasps and grunts, dreaming of giving birth to its full potential.  Even creation knows that something’s missing.

A journalist assigned to the Jerusalem bureau lived in an apartment with a view of the Wailing Wall.[1] Every day when she looked out the widows, she saw an old Jewish man praying at the wall.  Eventually, the journalist walked down and introduced herself to the old man.  She asked, “You come every day to the wall. How long have you done that, and what are you praying for?“  The old man replied, “I have come here to pray every day for 25 years. In the morning I pray for world peace and then for the brotherhood of man. I go home, have a cup of tea, and I come back and pray for the eradication of illness and disease from the earth.”  The journalist was amazed.  She asked, “How does it make you feel to come here every day for 25 years and pray for these things?“  The old man looked at her sadly and said, “How does it make me feel?  Like I’m talking to a wall.“  That’s the groan—the sense that we and creation could be so much more.

(JOSHUA RAY)

In our text this morning Paul writes about the groan.  The groan that comes because we and creation could be so much more.  But Paul also writes about glory.  He writes about the glory that one day we will become so much more.  And he writes about the glory that one day even creation will become so much more.  Because Jesus’ resurrection not only guarantees us the glory of a body that has reached its full potential.  Jesus’ resurrection also guarantees us the glory of a creation that has reached its full potential: 18For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Rom. 8:18-25 ESV).  This is a complex passage.  But one thing it clearly states is that because of the resurrection of Jesus, even creation has begun to be set free from its bondage to corruption.  That is, even creation is guaranteed that it will become the so-much-more that God intended it to be.  In fact, John says in Rev. 21, eventually this earth and heaven will become a new earth and a new heaven where those who follow Jesus will live forever.  Our eternal home will not be a set of clouds.  Our eternal home will be a heaven and an earth that no longer have limits, that have reached its full potential.  All because of the resurrection of Jesus.      

In Our Greatest Gift, author Henri Nouwen tells a parable.[2] He imagines twins–a brother and a sister–talking to each other in their mother’s womb: The sister said to the brother, “I believe there is life after birth.“  Her brother protested vehemently, “No, no, this is all there is. This is a dark and cozy place, and we have nothing else to do but to cling to the cord that feeds us.”  The little girl insisted, “There must be something more than this dark place. There must be something else, a place with light where there is freedom to move.” Still, she could not convince her twin brother.  After some silence, the sister said hesitantly, “I have something else to say, and I’m afraid you won’t believe that, either, but I think there is a mother.”  Her brother became furious. “A mother!” he shouted. “What are you talking about? I have never seen a mother, and neither have you. Who put that idea in your head? As I told you, this place is all we have. Why do you always want more? This is not such a bad place, after all. We have all we need, so let’s be content.“  The sister was overwhelmed by her brother’s response and for a while didn’t dare say anything more. But she couldn’t let go of her thoughts, and since she had only her twin brother to speak to, she finally said, “Don’t you feel these squeezes every once in a while? They’re quite unpleasant and sometimes even painful.”  “Yes,” he answered. “What’s special about that?“  “Well,” the sister said, “I think that these squeezes are there to get us ready for another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother face-to-face. Don’t you think that’s exciting?“  The brother didn’t answer. He was fed up with the foolish talk of his sister and felt that the best thing would be simply to ignore her and hope that she would leave him alone.

But you can’t ignore it can you?  We all sense it.  There must be more than this.  And Jesus’ resurrection says, “That’s right.”  His resurrection was the first of the birth pains that will eventually lead us to the glory of a new body and the glory of a new earth.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying and Caring (HarperSanFrancisco, 1994), 19-20.

Chris Altrock – March 28, 2010

Dan Brown is the best-selling and controversial author of books such as The DaVinci Code and Demons and Angels, both of which have become movies.  I recently listened to the audio version of one of Brown’s latest books, The Lost Symbol.[1]  In that book, the main character Robert Langdon is forced to wrestle with what happens to a person after he/she dies.  Langdon, a university professor, is an atheist.  He believes that once someone dies he/she simply ceases to exist.  There is no human soul that lives on after death.  There is no afterlife.  But then Langdon comes face to face with scientific evidence suggesting there is a human soul.  He is plunged into circumstances which suggest there is an afterlife.  For awhile, this issue remains academic.  Langdon can debate it casually with his colleagues.  But when it appears that Langdon is about to drown to death, the issue becomes very personal.  Langdon suddenly takes a heartfelt interest in what might happen to him if he dies.

Like Langdon, some at Highland have or are now facing the reality of their own deaths.  For some here this morning, cancer or other diseases have raised the likelihood that your life may end within months or a few years.  And you are very interested in this matter of what happens when a person dies.  Many more of us at Highland have faced the reality of the death of someone we loved.  And as we sat in that funeral service or as we stood at that graveside, we were intently interested in what happened to that loved one when he/she died.  It is a fundamental question of life.  You may be thirteen, or a young professional or a middle-aged husband, and death may seem like forever away.  There are some of you here this morning who are much more interested in how to make ends meet than you are in what might happen after death.  But let me assure you that this question is inescapable.  You can ignore it or be academic about it as the character did in Dan Brown’s book.  But there will come a time when you will take a heartfelt interest in what happens after death.  It is such a critical life-question, after all, that Dan Brown built another best-selling book on it.

But frankly, many of us have beliefs about what happens after death that are different than what the Bible teaches.  The common belief in this country and among most Christians is this: When a Christian dies, his/her soul floats to heaven and he/she lives eternally in the clouds with God in a kind of ethereal state.  But in reality, that is not what happens.  As we’ll see in this morning’s text, there’s a lot more to what happens after death than we typically imagine.

1For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, 3if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. 4For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Cor. 5:1-4 ESV)  When Paul writes about what happens after death, he uses three images.  He envisions a journey from a tent, to nakedness, to a house. First, Paul writes about “the tent that is our earthly home” and a “tent” in which “we groan” and being “in this tent.”  Second, Paul writes about being “found naked” or being “unclothed.”  Third, Paul writes about “a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” and “our heavenly dwelling.”  As Paul explains what happens after death, he explains it as a journey from a tent, to nakedness, to a house.

Here’s what these metaphors mean.  First, “the tent” is the body we live in before we die.  The tent refers to the body you have right now.  Take your finger and poke your chest.  Say, “This is my tent.”  Second, “the house” refers to the body we will have in heaven after Jesus raises us from the dead.  At some point after death, Jesus will raise us from the dead and give us new bodies.  That’s “the house.”  What may come as a surprise is that after Jesus raises us from the dead, we will be living in heaven in a literal body.  It will be different from this body (the way a house is different from a tent).  But it will be a body.  Heaven is not going to be an eternity in some ghost-like existence living in the clouds.  After your life in this tent is over, and at some point after you die, Jesus will raise you from the dead and give you a new body.  That’s “the house.”  The tent is the old body.  The house is the new body.  What body is the tent?  It’s the “old” body.  What body is the house?  It’s the new body.

But what about the period between the time when someone dies and the time when Jesus raises that person from the dead?  None of the people whom you love and who have died have been raised yet from the dead.  Jesus has not returned to raise anyone from the dead.  So, what’s happened to Christian people who have died and haven’t been raised?  And what would happen to you if you died today?  That’s what Paul uses the third metaphor of “nakedness” or “not being clothed” to describe.^[2]  What many of us may not realize is that life after death actually has two parts.  There’s the final part, the house, the new body in which we’ll live eternally in heaven.  But before the final part, there’s another part.  There is a time during which we live in-between: we’ve left the tent, the old body, but we’ve not yet arrived at the house, the new body.  There is a time after death when we live in-between—not in between earth and heaven, but in between the tent and the house.  Paul calls this “nakedness” or “not being clothed.”  That’s the state in which every Christian you know who has died is now living.  That’s the state you’d be living in today if you are a Christian and you died today.

And Paul describes this in-between time in two ways.  First, he describes it as an escape from an earthly burden.   Listen once more to Paul’s words: 1For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, 3if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. 4For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Cor. 5:1-4 ESV)  Paul believes there is a burden that humans experience while living in our earthly bodies, our tents.  I don’t want to spend much time on this because it will be the focus of next Sunday’s sermon.  But Paul believed that this “in-between” time of after-death but before-resurrection was an escape from the burden that comes from life in this body, life in this tent. 

That is why Paul could write this: 21For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 22If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. 23 I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. (Phil. 1:21-23 ESV).  Paul is writing about what happens immediately after death.  He’s not writing about what life in heaven will be like after we receive the resurrection body.  He’s writing about life in heaven immediately after we die.  And for Paul, life immediately after death is about one thing: being with Christ.  For Paul, there was great gain in leaving the earthly tent, because this in-between time would be a time of being with Christ.  The burden of being separate from Christ ends the moment a Christian dies.  Relief isn’t delayed until the resurrection.  It appears immediately upon death.

Jesus tells a story in Lk. 16 which reveals more about life immediately after death: 19″There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. 22The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, 23and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. 24And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’ 25But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. (Lk. 16:19-25 ESV)  Here, the poor man named Lazarus has a terrible burden which he experiences in his earthly body, his tent.  He is covered with sores and he has nothing to eat or drink.  But immediately upon his death he escapes those burdens and receives comfort.  This place in-between the tent of the earthly body and the house of the resurrection body is a place of comfort from the burden of poverty and hardships.  Those burdens end the moment a godly person dies.  Relief isn’t delayed until the resurrection.  It appears immediately upon death.

We can clearly say that this intermediate state in which we exist in heaven without our earthly body or tent and not yet dwelling in our resurrection body is a time in which we escape earthly burdens associated with this tent.

Yet it is also an existence filled with the expectation of a heavenly blessing.  Let’s return to Paul’s words: 1For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, 3if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. 4For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Cor. 5:1-4 ESV)  Because life in heaven immediately after death is an escape from earthly burdens Paul can say in Phil. 1 that he longs to die and be with Christ.  Yet this intermediate state is also a time of expectation, a time in which we are longing for that which we do not yet have.  And that’s what Paul focuses on here.  He longs to put on his heavenly dwelling, to receive his resurrection body.  He wants to be further clothed.  This intermediate time in heaven is a time of expectation.

But it’s not a negative thing.  We shouldn’t imagine that Paul is describing this intermediate time as a time when we are dissatisfied.  Rather, it is a time of joyful anticipation.  We are happy for the burdens we have escaped.  And we are excited about the body we will soon receive.  Every Christian person you know, upon their death, experienced relief from earthly burdens and is now experiencing joyful anticipation of the body he/she will soon receive.

I’ll close by illustrating all of this in two ways.  First, I’ll use an account from my own life.  In January, 1994 Kendra and I moved from Memphis, TN to Las Cruces, NM to begin my first full-time preaching ministry.  While in Memphis, we lived in a decaying one-bedroom-one-bathroom apartment on the campus of Harding University Graduate School of Religion.  Despite its poverty of size, we made many happy memories in that apartment.  It truly was home during my grad school years.  We had birthday parties and game nights and laugh-until-you-cry moments there.  But it was small, old, and things kept falling apart.  In Las Cruces, we would eventually move into a three bedroom home with a two-car garage, large backyard, full-sized kitchen, and two full bathrooms.  It was a huge contrast, going from that small apartment in Memphis to that new home in Las Cruces.  That’s what the contrast will be like going from the tent of this body to the building of the resurrection body.  It’s not that there isn’t any joy to be had while living in this tent.  There is overwhelming joy.  But, things do keep falling apart.  And, the joy we experience while living in the tent is nothing compared to the joy of moving into that new home, that resurrection body.    

Kendra and I didn’t transition directly from the Memphis apartment to the Las Cruces home.  Upon arriving in Las Cruces, we took up residence in the back bedroom of Kendra’s childhood home where her parents still lived.  Kendra’s parents were great.  We always had good food and they helped with many things.  We enjoyed that time.  It was so good to escape the things we didn’t like about that grad school apartment.  But while in Kendra’s childhood home, we were also joyfully anticipating moving into our own home.  Then we found a two-bedroom apartment and moved into it while we saved more money for the purchase of a home.  The apartment complex had a nice pool and we had space to stretch out.  We enjoyed those months.  It was so good to escape even further the things we didn’t like about that grad school apartment.  But the whole time we lived in that Las Cruces apartment, we were also joyfully anticipating moving into a new home.  And when that day came, there was nothing like it.

When a Christian dies, he/she takes up that in-between experience.  Immediately, he/she escapes the things that just weren’t right about life in the tent, in the old body.  And quickly, he/she begins to joyfully anticipate moving into a new home, a permanent dwelling, the resurrection body.

As a second illustration, I’ll use an account from the Old Testament.  The word Paul uses for “tent” can refer to the tabernacle of the Old Testament.  The tabernacle was that portable temple, that temporary dwelling place of God.  As the Israelites wandered through the wilderness, they would carry the tabernacle with them. When God told them to stop, they would stop, unpack the tabernacle, and set it up.  When God told them to go, they would breakdown the tabernacle, pack it up, and march on.  That image of the tabernacle is the image Paul uses for our earthly bodies.  A tent.  As you probably know, eventually, Solomon built God a permanent temple.  God “moved” from the tent to the temple.  And the word “temple” is similar to the image Paul uses for our resurrection bodies.  Our earthly body or tent is like that tabernacle.  And our resurrection body is like that permanent temple.

Did you know that there was a brief period of time when God was not “dwelling” in the tabernacle any longer, but had not yet taken up residence in the permanent temple?  There was a time when God was no longer in the tent and not yet in the house.  In 2 Chr. 5 we read this scene: 1 So Solomon finished all his work on the Temple of the Lord. Then he brought all the gifts his father, David, had dedicated—the silver, the gold, and the various articles—and he stored them in the treasuries of the Temple of God.  2 Solomon then summoned to Jerusalem the elders of Israel and all the heads of tribes—the leaders of the ancestral families of Israel. They were to bring the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant to the Temple from its location in the City of David, also known as Zion. 3 So all the men of Israel assembled before the king at the annual Festival of Shelters, which is held in early autumn. 4 When all the elders of Israel arrived, the Levites picked up the Ark. 5 The priests and Levites brought up the Ark along with the special tent and all the sacred items that had been in it. 6 There, before the Ark, King Solomon and the entire community of Israel sacrificed so many sheep, goats, and cattle that no one could keep count!  7 Then the priests carried the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant into the inner sanctuary of the Temple—the Most Holy Place—and placed it beneath the wings of the cherubim…11 Then the priests left the Holy Place. All the priests who were present had purified themselves, whether or not they were on duty that day. 12 And the Levites who were musicians—Asaph, Heman, Jeduthun, and all their sons and brothers—were dressed in fine linen robes and stood at the east side of the altar playing cymbals, lyres, and harps. They were joined by 120 priests who were playing trumpets. 13 The trumpeters and singers performed together in unison to praise and give thanks to the Lord. Accompanied by trumpets, cymbals, and other instruments, they raised their voices and praised the Lord with these words: “He is good!  His faithful love endures forever!”  At that moment a thick cloud filled the Temple of the Lord. 14 The priests could not continue their service because of the cloud, for the glorious presence of the Lord filled the Temple of God.  (2 Chr. 5:1-14 NLT).

Can you picture the scene?  The Ark of the Covenant—the presence of God—moves from the tabernacle to the temple.  And that procession from one to the other is a celebration!  People dancing and singing and praising!  They can’t wait until the Ark finally rests in the temple!  I think that image is what Paul has in mind as he thinks of our journey from our earthly tent to our permanent temple.  It is like a praise-parade.  We’ll be singing.  We’ll be dancing. We’ll be rejoicing.  Because we know that very soon we’ll receive our house not made with hands.  And all we’ll be able to say is, “He is good!  His faithful love endures forever!”  That’s what life is like immediately after death for those who follow Jesus. 

^[2]Wiersbe, Warren W.: The Bible Exposition Commentary. Wheaton, Ill. : Victor Books, 1996, c1989, S. 2 Co 5:1

Chris Altrock – March 21, 2010

I just returned from traveling to my childhood home in New Mexico.  We drove 2,100 miles and saw every McDonalds, truck stop, and dead armadillo there was to see between Memphis and New Mexico.   Three years have passed since the last time I journeyed there with my kids.  Five years have passed since I journeyed there with Kendra.  But that stands in stark contrast to our travel habits when we first moved to Memphis in 1998.  Eleven years ago, we would travel back home every year, usually around Christmas.   It was a rare year when we didn’t get back home.  In fact, for the first couple of years after moving to Memphis, I was home-sick.  Each time we returned to Memphis after our Christmas sojourn to New Mexico, I would ache for my New Mexico home.  I would long to still be in New Mexico.  Just ask Kendra – I was a “grumpy Gus” to be around.  Yet now, we only occasionally travel to New Mexico.  While New Mexico remains my childhood home, more and more Memphis is my adult home.

And all this travel has led me to think a lot lately about the concept of home.  What is home?  Most of us, I think, would agree on one thing home is not: home is not merely a place.  Just because you have four walls and a roof doesn’t mean you have a home.  For example, I recall the day I arrived in Memphis in the summer of 1998.  Kendra and Jordan remained behind at my brother’s home in Oklahoma City.  They sent me ahead, like John the Baptist, to prepare their way.  And I spent that first night in Memphis alone in the house we had purchased during a previous visit.  But that house was not a home.  The power hadn’t been turned on yet, and it was July.  And the movers hadn’t arrived with any furniture.  I was so uncomfortable in that house that first night sleeping on the floor and sweating, that I finally got up in the middle of the night, drove to the church building on Highland Street, and spent the rest of the night on a couch in the Youth Mission.  That house looked like a home.  But it didn’t feel home.  Home is not merely a place.

If home was merely a place, then we’d have to take that place with us to feel at home wherever we were.  But we don’t do that.  Throughout our lives, many places become home.  Donnie and Bethany Stover’s baby has had a warm and comfortable home for nine months.  But he’s about to change homes.  He’s about to leave the only place he’s known and be thrust into a bright, cold, and sensory-overloading place we call earth.  It’ll take a while, but he’ll get used to it.  And soon, the room Bethany and Donnie have prepared will feel like his new home.  And for the next 18 years, that place will be home.  But eventually, he’ll move out and go to college.  He’ll live in a dorm room or rent an apartment with five other guys with moldy leftovers and smelly laundry.  For five or six years, that’ll be home.  At first, it will be strange.  He’ll be home-sick.  He’ll come back to Memphis every weekend.  But eventually, that college home will feel like his new home.  And then, he’ll graduate and move on to graduate school or to a full-time job.  He’ll lease a condo or rent an apartment or purchase a small two bedroom house.  And that will become home.  Then, maybe he’ll get married and they’ll buy a place together.  And that will become home.  And they’ll have a child, and the cycle will repeat itself.  Home’s not merely a place.  If it was, we wouldn’t be able to be at home in all these different places.

What then, is home?  It’s often attached to a place.  But you need more than the place.  You need something else, don’t you?  I’m going to suggest three words which I think summarize much of what makes a place a home.  [PP Home: familiarity, fun, family.]  First, home is often a place of familiarity.  For example, have you ever taken a vacation and at some point said, “I can’t wait to get home!”?  What did you mean?  You probably meant “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed,” or “I can’t wait to sit in my own chair.”  One of the things we miss most about home when we’re gone is its familiarity: the bed and pillow, the couch or easy chair.  Have you ever travelled out of the country and at some point said, “I can’t wait to get home!”?  What did you mean?  You may have meant, “I can’t wait to get back home where they drive on the right side of the road,” or “I can’t wait to eat some real food.”  What makes a place a home is often familiarity.

Second, home is often a place of fun.  For those of you who may have lived in a dorm or in an apartment in college, and you actually enjoyed the experience, what did you enjoy about it?  Most likely, you enjoyed the fun.  On some weekends you would actually choose to stay in the dorm or college apartment rather than trek back home.  Why?  Because you were having so much fun.  I lived in the college dorm of a state university for three years, and I experienced some very entertaining times.  Like the time the football team barged into my suitemate’s room (he was the physical trainer for the team), strapped him with rope to the mattress of his bed, and then set him and his mattress afloat on the small lake nearby.  And he was only wearing underwear.  In addition, many of you had homes before college which were filled with fun.  Your home was the house everyone wanted to be at.  There was always horseplay, silliness, laughter, and lots of fun.  What makes a place a home is often fun.

Third, home is often a place of family.  This component is probably the one that comes most quickly to mind.  Do you ever think wistfully about your childhood home?  What is it about that childhood home you miss the most?  It’s probably that sense of connection, of belonging.  For those of you who came from even semi-healthy families, what really made home “home” was that it was where those we loved the most lived.  And that’s why, if your family moved, you could always re-establish a new home.  For example, Kendra’s family moved a great deal, with her Dad being in the Army.  But each time, in each different location, they were able to make a new home, because for them, home was primarily a place of family.  Wherever the Army happened to move the family, that was home.  Home is often a place of family. 

We’re in the middle of a series about heaven. The series is based in Paul’s words in 2 Cor. 4:7-5:10.  It’s one of the most important texts about heaven in the Bible.  Joshua Ray has led us through two Sunday mornings in this text.  This morning, listen to the way in which Paul describes heaven as “home”: 14knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence…6So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, 7for we walk by faith, not by sight. 8Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. (2 Cor. 4:14; 5:6-9 ESV).  First, Paul establishes a timeline in vs. 14.  It goes like this: God raised Jesus from the dead, God will also raise us from the dead, and then God will bring us “into his presence.”  “Presence” here has varied meanings.  Among them is this: “to bring into one’s fellowship or intimacy.”  This makes sense when we listen to Paul use the word again in 2 Cor. 11:2: 2For I feel a divine jealousy for you, since I betrothed you to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ.  Paul envisions a day in the future when we, the church, will be presented to Jesus in the way a pure and chaste young woman is presented on the wedding day to her husband.  The same word is used in the same way by Paul in Eph. 5: 25 Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, 26that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, 27so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. Paul envisions a day in the future when we, the bride, will be presented to Jesus, the groom.  Back in 2 Cor. 4:14 Paul has the same scene in mind: God raised Jesus from the dead, God will also one day raise us from the dead, then he will present us, the chaste and pure bride, to Jesus, the groom.

That scene in vs. 14 prepares us for the rest of the text: 6So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, 7for we walk by faith, not by sight. 8Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. (2 Cor. 5:6-9 ESV).  Paul contrasts two “homes.”  First, there is the “home” we have right now: “at home in the body.”  Paul is referring to our present life, our pre-resurrection life.  Right now, that’s our home.  The problem with that home, however, is that it causes us to be “away from the Lord.”  Now, Jesus does say in Jn. 14:23 that through the Holy Spirit he is with us right now.   But in the deepest sense of the word, we are not “at home” with the Lord Jesus when we are “at home” in the body.  We are not present with Jesus right now the way a bride is present with the groom on the wedding day.  Right now, we are away from the Lord.  Thus Paul says that our lives are “by faith, not by sight.”  We don’t see the Lord Jesus.  We don’t hold the Lord Jesus, right now.  Our relationship is by faith, not sight. 

Yet there will come a time when we will be “away from the body” and “at home with the Lord.”  To be “away from the body” means to be resurrected from the dead, living in our new resurrection bodies.  And in those resurrection bodies we will be presented as a bride to the groom, Jesus.  And we will finally be “at home with the Lord.”

So, here’s the picture.  A groom and bride have endured a lengthy separation.  The bride has been forced to live abroad, to leave the country and to make a home elsewhere.  Each day the bride thinks fondly of her husband-to-be.  Each day she reads his letters and she writes her own letters, talking as it were, to her groom long-distance.  Each day she marks on a large wall calendar how many days are left until their wedding day.  And finally the day arrives.  She returns to her homeland and is face-to-face with her groom.  And they make a home together.

And what will that heavenly home be like?  I think it will be a place of familiarity.  Though we have never been there, it will be as if we have lived there all our lives.  David writes in Ps. 63:1: “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you.”  He writes in Ps. 27:4, “One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple.”  All David can think about is being with God, seeing God, being at home with God.  That is our deepest longing in life.  It is so deep we may not be as aware as David was of its presence.  But when we, the bride, are presented to Jesus, the groom and we make our heavenly home with him, that deepest longing within us will be fulfilled.  His touch, his gaze, his place prepared for us will fit like the familiar pillow and mattress fit after arriving at home or like the familiar lips of a loved one after being gone for far too long.

It will be a place of fun.  Maybe joy would be the best word.  But “fun” also fits.  Think about the last wedding you attended.  Or think about your own wedding.  Weddings are filled with fun and joy.  Some of my fondest Memphis memories are of weddings and wedding receptions: one with a reception at the train station downtown, one with a reception at the Brooks museum, one in which the bride and groom wore pink Converse shoes.  A few months ago I attended the wedding of Clay Midyett and Sara.  The Midtown Church of Christ where the ceremony was held was festively decorated.  The place was packed.  And the reception was held at the Teton Trek, the home of the Grizzly Bears at the Memphis Zoo.  We gathered in a replica of a Yellowstone lodge and ate great food, sat in rocking chairs on large porches, and watched the animals and kids run around.  The groom even provided Gibson’s doughnuts with ice cold milk.  It was a ball!  All of that is also wrapped up in this image of our wedding day with Jesus and the new home we will make together with him in heaven.  It will be a place of fun.

And it will be a place of family.  Perhaps this is most important of all.  If you had a healthy home growing up filled with close connections, then for you heaven will be the ultimate experience of something you’ve experienced a little in this life.  If you had a healthy marriage, then that heavenly wedding will be the ultimate experience of something you’ve experienced some in this life.  But if you didn’t have a healthy home or a healthy marriage, then heaven will finally be that experience you never got to have.  What you most missed you’ll most find on that day.  It will be a place of family.

Some of us connect well with that idea, because we’ve become more and more aware of our own longing for God and Jesus.  One of the things we want most is to see God, to face Jesus, to be present with them.  We can feel it when we sing and worship.  We can sense it when we pray.

But not all of us are there.  Honestly, for some of us, the thought of being at home with Jesus doesn’t necessarily move our hearts.  Bill Hybels writes this:[1] I’ll never forget a Christian music instructor trying to get some of us junior high guys to behave in a music class. She finally said in exasperation, “You’d better start singing like I’m telling you to sing in this choir, because if you have any plans for going to heaven, that’s all we’re going to do there!” For a junior high kid, five or ten billion years in choir robes wasn’t my idea of a good time! You’ve heard all the harp stories, the pearly gates, the flowing robes, and you’ve probably thought heaven was about as exciting as spending your honeymoon in downtown Hammond [IN].  Not all of us jump for joy at the thought of heaven being a home with the Lord.

Let me address this.  In his book Heaven Randy Alcorn provides a helpful perspective.[2]  Think of some things you do take a great deal of joy in.  Maybe it’s your favorite meal.  Maybe it’s a good football game, a cozy fire, or an intriguing book.  Maybe it’s your children.  Maybe it’s your spouse.  Maybe it’s January snow or July rain.  Maybe it’s a vacation to the beach or a trip to Disney World.  Maybe it’s a beautiful sunset.  Alcorn argues that all of these joys are derivative.  These good things are gifts to us from God.  They derive from God.  And if we find great joy in the presence of these gifts, just imagine how much joy we will find in the presence of the giver!  In heaven we’ll experience the greater joy that comes by being with the giver of life’s greatest gifts.  Our groom Jesus is the one who’s supplied all these joy-giving things.  And if they make us excited, imagine how we will feel to finally be with the one who gave them.

In the Bible’s fullest description of heaven, at the end of Revelation, John is permitted to see this heavenly scene.  In Rev. 21:9 the angel describes the scene in this way: “Come, I will show you the Bride, the wife of the Lamb.”   It is a wedding scene.  Groom and bride finally united.  Groom and bride finally home.

And all of this helps explain the final verse in this morning’s text: So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. (2 Cor. 5:9 ESV).  What will we be doing in heaven?  Paul says this: “ we make it our aim to please him.”  Now, there’s a lot involved in that phrase.  But the real focus of Paul’s words in 2 Cor 5 is relationship.  What will we do in heaven?  We’ll be “pleasing him.”  We, the bride, will be pleasing him, the groom.  Have you ever been in love?  I remember when Kendra and I first met.  We’d spend hours together—driving, walking, talking.  I am not a night person, but for those years of dating I was up so late so many nights I think I had sleep deprivation.  We’d get together and before we’d know it, hours would have passed.  Have you ever been in that kind of love—the kind where all that mattered was saying and doing things that pleased the other?  That’s heaven.  That’s home—an eternity in that kind of all-consuming and time-stopping love.

Pat Baily tells the story of her son and his wife leaving home for Florida to celebrate their wedding anniversary. [3]  Pat, the grandma, came over to watch the grandsons—Nate, 7, and Josh, 5.  They enjoyed a busy and energetic day.  Then, she writes: “At last, it was time for bed—bath time was over and the three of us were ready to sleep. Then, the phone rang. It was Brian and Becky, and the boys jumped up to chat. As each one took a turn talking with their mom and dad, the tears began to flow. Soon, they were both inconsolable. The whole situation had become too much. The boys were tired, their mom and dad were soooooo far away, and, as much as they love me, they wanted them.  When we finally got back to the bedroom, I tried to quiet them as best I could. Josh eventually fell asleep with his mouth wide open, still crying. Nate, being older, couldn’t stop thinking about his parents. He was like a record stuck in one spot, and he was wearing a groove so deep that I had no idea how to help him. Through the wailing, his shaking arms reached out to me, and his little voice spoke some very profound words: “Grandma, I’m homesick, and I am home. How can that be?”  I think that describes us.  We’re home, in the body.  But we’re homesick.  Because the one we love, the giver of all we enjoy, is soooo far away.  But one day all that will change.  One day we’ll all go home.  And we’ll be homesick no more.

[2] Randy Alcorn, Heaven (Tyndale, 2004): 177.

[3] Pat Bailey, Batavia, Illinois; TheChancel.com

Here is today’s prayer event:  24Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. (John 17:24 ESV)

Whereas much of John 17 has focused on the near-future, this final part of Jesus’ prayer seems to focus on the distant-future.  Jesus prays for our heavenly reunion–that we who follow him might be with him in the place where he has spent an eternity being loved. 

“Father, bring them safely home.”  “Father, lead them back to me.”  “Father, let them live in this place of love.”

Jesus is rooting for me to make it to heaven.  He’s not hoping I’ll slip up.  He’s not holding his breath, just waiting to see me fail.  He’s not shaking his head every time I fall, saying, “He’s never going to make it.”  No, Jesus is spending some of his final breath praying for me and you to make it to heaven.  Jesus is rooting for us.  Jesus is pulling for us.  “Father, whatever you do, please make sure they wind up right here with me.”

Do you tend to imagine Jesus praying for you or against you?  Why?

Close your eyes and imagine Jesus praying (put your name in the blank), “Father, I’m rooting for _______.  I’m pulling for _________.  I want nothing more than for ________ to be with me.  Please make sure _________ makes it to heaven.”

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In Chapter Nine Wright addresses Jesus, the Coming Judge.  This is the second of a two-chapter examination of the Second Coming.  Wright argues that judgment as it relates to the Second Coming is a good thing: “The word judgmentcarries negative overtones for a good many people in our liberal and postliberal world.  We need to remind ourselves that throughout the Bible, not least in the Psalms, God’s coming judgment is a good thing, something to be celebrated, longed for, yearned over…In a world of systematic injustice, bullying, violence, arrogance, and oppression, the thought that there might come a day when the wicked are firmly put in their place and the poor and weak are given their due is the best news there can be.”

Wright focuses on three elements of judgment and the Second Coming:

1. Judgment and Second Coming remind us that Jesus stands apart from the church and the world even while being present in spirit.  He will one day confront the world (and the church) in person.
2. Unlike Stoic, Platonic, Hindu, and Buddhist worldviews, the judgment and Second Coming show the Christian worldview as one in which there is not an endless cycle or meaningless repetition but one in which there is a beginning, middle, and definite end to the story.
3. In between scension and parousia the church is set free “both from the self-driven energy that imagines it has to build God’s kingdom all by itself and from the despair that supposes it can’t do anything until Jesus comes again.”

In Chapter Eight Wright takes up the issue of the Second Coming.  He writes that “Jesus’s appearing will be, for those of us who have known and loved him here, like meeting face-to-face someone we have only known by letter, telephone, or perhaps e-mail.”

Wright tackles two issues: 1) that Jesus will come again, and 2) that Jesus will come as judge (this issue is taken up in Chapter 9).  Regarding the former, Wright proposes that when Jesus spoke of “the son of man coming on the clouds” this was not a reference to Jesus’ second coming, but to his first coming.  Jesus was using Dan. 7 to refer to the vindication he would receive after the suffering of the crucifixion.  Thus, this had nothing to do with the Second Coming.  In addition, when Jesus told the parable of a king/master who goes away and then returns, it was a parable about the time of the exile and God returning to Israel.  It was not about Jesus’ Second Coming.  Instead, it was ultimately about Jesus’ first coming and how Jesus’ ministry was the fulfillment of God’s ultimate return to Israel.

It is Paul’s letters where we find incontrovertible texts regarding Jesus’ return.  Paul often used the word “parousia” which Wright believes ought to be translated not “coming” but “presence.”  The contrast is not “leaving” and “coming” but “presence” and “absence.”  Wright shows that “parousia” was used in the Greco-Roman world to 1) speak of the supernatural presence of a god (in spirit) and 2) the visit of a king/emperor to a colony or province.  Thus, when used of Jesus, ”parousia” carried the idea that now Jesus is “near in spirit but absent in body” but that “one day he would be present in body” as well as in spirit.  It also carried the idea that Jesus, the absent but ruling emperor, will one day appear and rule in person.

Wright spends considerable space explaining 1 Thess. 4:16-17 and arguing that the scene is not so much Christians leaving the earth at the resurrection and then going to live with Jesus in some other distant locale.  Instead, the scene is one of Christians being raised from the dead, meeting Jesus in the air, and then escorting Jesus back to earth as he reigns on a new heaven/new earth (in the same way that the citizens of a colony would meet a visiting emperor at some distance from the city and then escort him back into the city).    “The point is that, having gone out to meet their returning Lord, they will escort him royally into his domain, that is, back to the place they have come from.”